


Turnabout is Fair Play

by solomonara



Series: How to Date a Superhero [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Humor, Kidnapping, M/M, Paparazzi, Pseudoscience, SuperBat, a diabolical plot, established Bruce/Clark, secret identity hijinks, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-01-29 21:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12639630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solomonara/pseuds/solomonara
Summary: Superman kissed Bruce Wayne in full view of several dozen phones. Now the whole world, including Lex Luthor, knows Superman has a boyfriend. But that's okay. Batman has a plan. (Sequel to How to Date the Batman.)





	1. Dangling Bait is Fair Play

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Turnabout is Fair Play/角色逆转才公平](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14147385) by [solomonara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solomonara/pseuds/solomonara), [venhazel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venhazel/pseuds/venhazel)



> This is the sequel to [How to Date the Batman](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12304110/chapters/27970914). Read that one first!
> 
> Beta-d, as always, by the excellent [DragonSorceress22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSorceress22/pseuds/DragonSorceress22), with many thanks for stepping outside her usual fandoms :)

 

> **654 Comments on article** _Super Smooch!_  
>  …  
>  **man0feels:** what kind of kryptonite does that and where can I get some!  
>  **soooupergurl:** is anyone else worried about supes I mean this is bruce wayne were talking about  
>              **BigBluBoiScout:** pretty sure Superman can take care of himself  
>  **1ts4b1rd1ts4pl4n3:** standing by to pick up the pieces if he can't!  
>              **soooupergurl:** omg he better not break Superman's heart  
>  **flamebirb:** so I guess "on vacation in the Virgin Islands" means "busy seducing Superman" huh  
>  **fa5terthanfla5h:** hey remember when Superman was gone from Metropolis like a month or so ago and Nightwing showed up? "away on a justice league mission" my ass  
>  **superfan5452:** HAWT  
>  **sp33dingbu11et:** that's so sweet! I'm glad superman can find time for love uwu  
>  **sup3rsidek1ck:** what is with all these superheroes and their civilian boyfriends all of a sudden…  
>  ...

"So Bruce, how does it feel to be responsible for corrupting a, quote, 'pure-hearted cinnamon roll' with your dastardly, playboy ways?" Dick asked, ambling down the stairs into the Batcave while he scrolled through comments on his phone. Bruce paused his workout.

"Did you come through the front?"

"You mean through the gauntlet of reporters practically climbing the gates? Why yes," Dick said.

"Please tell me you didn't—"

"Comment extensively on your relations with the Man of Steel?" Dick's grin was mischievous, but he relented under Bruce's unyielding stare. "Of course not. I just rode right in. They know better than to push. I'm surprised they're even bothering to stake out the grounds; it's never worked in the past."

Bruce grunted and turned back to the Wing Chun dummy he was abusing. There was a utility table nearby that was currently clear of clutter and Dick boosted himself onto it, legs swinging. " _Will that playboy stop at nothing in his conquests_?" Dick read aloud. " _Bruce Wayne has disappeared from the social scene after last night's—_ Well duh, it was _last night_ ," Dick said, rolling his eyes. "Oh, listen to this one: _I was abducted by Kryptonians last year and Mr. Wayne is in for a surprise in the bedroom._ " Dick paused. "Is that—"

"No."

"Ah. Right. Oh, here's a good one—"

"Dick. Why are you here."

Dick looked from his phone, to Bruce, and back to his phone. "Uh, second time in two months, Bruce. I'm starting to think you have an exhibitionist streak."

"Neither instance was intentional."

"Are you telling me you _didn't plan_ for this?" Dick gasped.

The corner of Bruce's mouth twitched. "I didn't say that."

Dick waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't and simply went back to completing his set with the dummy, Dick shrugged and wandered back upstairs to track down Damian. Someone had to see how the kid was dealing with getting an eyeful of his dad and Superman making out every time he looked at the internet.

 

Bruce didn't begrudge Clark his fun. The manor was far better protected from prying eyes than any Metropolis apartment, and he was used to dealing with (and dodging) the paparazzi. He could avoid them for months, if he wanted, and it wouldn't even rouse suspicion. But as long as Clark had opened this can of worms, Bruce figured he might as well make use of it. After a few days of lying low, measuring the pitch of interest, Bruce had Alfred drive him out the front gates and take a direct and obvious route to Wayne Enterprises headquarters. On his instructions, Alfred skipped the private parking garage and simply pulled up in front of the building to let Bruce out quickly before driving off again. As expected, Bruce waded into a sea of cameras and microphones.

"Mr. Wayne! Bruce! Can I get a quote for _Style_?"

"Bruce, are you concerned about becoming a target for supervillains?"

"Bruce, over here, _Gotham Life_ magazine, are you and Superman dating or is this more of a casual fling?"

Bruce stopped at the top of the steps into his building and looked back at the crowd spilling down them and onto the sidewalk. He raised his hand for quiet and could practically hear the reporters' salivary glands kick into overdrive. His physical position – the literal high ground –  put him psychologically in control, while his reputation did the rest. Bruce Wayne might be hard to catch when he put his mind to it, but when he did stop and talk to the press what came out of his mouth was _always_ worth printing.

"A fling? Tell me, does Superman seem like the _flinging_ type to you?"

They all took that as they wanted, of course, either as an affirmation that things were serious or as a non-answer designed to distract from the fact that yes, he was toying with Superman's heart. There was a clamor of follow-up questions until he pointed at a young lady he thought he recognized from _Business Week_.

"Mr. Wayne, Wayne Enterprises stock has shot up over the past few days. Was your very public, er, relationship announcement planned with that result in mind?"

Bruce blinked, the picture of bewilderment. "Well that sounds like it would be a very irresponsible thing to do!" he said with a laugh. "Nice that it worked out, though. Yes, you in the back."

"Bruce, you've been gone from the social scene for months," a man from a national fashion magazine called from the back of the crowd. "Is this why? How long have you and Superman been seeing each other? Do you know his secret identity?"

"You're all so sure he has one," Bruce said with a cheeky grin. "Tell me, if you could be Superman, would you ever want to be anyone else?"

"Do you know Batman's boyfriend?" someone shouted. Bruce rolled his eyes.

"I think you mean ex-boyfriend. Yes, I read the gossip columns too. No, I don't know him. Which isn't to say I wouldn't have lunch with Mr. Kent any day; perhaps we could compare notes," he finished with a suggestive smile just bordering on a leer. Finding that a good note to end on, he slipped through the doors into the lobby of the building as chaos erupted in his wake. Security made sure the mob didn't make it any farther. Bruce took the elevator to his office, pulled up a stack of market reports and board correspondence, and got some actual work done while he waited for the phone to ring.

 

It took three more days for Lex Luthor to call him.

"Bruce! I'm so glad I caught you in the office," Lex said. Bruce switched to Bluetooth and kicked his feet up onto his desk.

"Lex Luthor, is that you? It's been too long. I don't think I've spoken to you since… must have been New Year's a year or two ago, huh?" It definitely was, and Bruce knew it. Normally Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor didn't move in the same social circles; for one thing, Lex didn't have much of a social life, and for another it was well-known that he found Bruce Wayne to be spoiled, shallow, frivolous, and undeserving of his company's success. But on that particular New Year's Eve they had attended, for once, the same party on a cruise ship off the coast from Metropolis – one that just so happened to be cruising over a spot where days before a meteorite had fallen into the ocean, its gorgeous green glow illuminating the waves from beneath and becoming an instant tourist attraction. Bruce had spent the evening spilling wine on Lex, attempting to seduce Mercy, attempting to seduce Lex, and generally bumbling about foiling any plans Lex might have had to slip off the ship and do a little kryptonite harvesting. The evening had ended with Bruce and Oliver Queen getting into a _spectacular_ fight and accidentally knocking Lex overboard, after which the cruise director would hear of nothing short of Lex being airlifted back to Metropolis to make sure he'd suffered no damage. Meanwhile, Aquaman had been working quietly to safely break up and dispose of the meteorite. The evening was one of Bruce's fonder memories, and he thought of it often when he needed to dredge up a smile for the public. Doubtless Lex had a rather different view of things, though.

"Ah, yes, how could I forget," Lex said, and to his credit he didn't sound at all annoyed. "I was just thinking how far we've both come in just a few years. Wayne Enterprises is certainly thriving. I see you've been doing some interesting things in pharmaceuticals lately."

"Are we? You know I just let my board handle that stuff," Bruce said airily.

"Oh. Yes. Well. One must prioritize, I suppose. But no matter how hands-off you are, your name means just as much to your company as mine does to LexCorp. If our two companies were to consider, say, a partnership, surely you'd want to be involved in those discussions?"

"Uh, I don't know, Lex. That sounds like the kind of thing I'd need lawyers for, and paperwork, and…"

"Oh, no, no, you misunderstand me," Lex said with a laugh. "I just mean a casual talk, feeling things out. That's why I'm calling, actually. I know you must get so many invites, but I had my people send your people one to an exclusive gala at my newest facility. I wanted to extend the personal touch, though. I think you would find it to your benefit to attend."

"A party?" Bruce let his tone indicate that his interest had been piqued. But then he reeled it back. "At a… _facility_. I don't know Lex, I'm not sure that's my kind of soiree."

"I say facility, but of course it is much more than that. It's an experimental R&D location, part laboratory and part museum, entirely green, LEED certified, and situated upstate in the middle of some truly beautiful country." Lex coughed slightly. "I believe Wayne Enterprises' latest research and development endeavor is located in, er, the East End?"

 _And doing more good there than your_ facility _is doing out in the middle of nowhere,_ Bruce thought. The East End suffered from endemic poverty and serious drug problems and hadn't been helped in the least by the recent territory wars. Wayne Enterprises was attempting to raise the quality of life in the area without gentrifying it, helping the current residents without raising the cost of living to the point where they'd be forced to move. Which was why that facility was modest, hired mainly locals, focused its research on combating drug addiction, and had a free clinic in the basement.

Bruce swallowed all of that and smiled so Lex would hear it in his voice. "Why Lex, that sounds like a challenge."

"Perish the thought."

"All right, I'll bite – say, wait a second," Bruce said. "This isn't just some plan to meet Superman, is it?"

"Certainly not!" Bruce had to hand it to Lex, he did "shocked" very well. While Lex's status as a supervillain was well-known in the superhero community, in the eyes of the law nothing could be proven. LexCorp had only ever been tangentially associated with any crime, and each of those instances had found a convenient scapegoat. As far as the judicial system was concerned, the only thing Lex was guilty of was having hiring managers who were lax with their psych evals. Publicly, Lex Luthor seemed to have a mild distaste for Superman, but that was understandable given the amount of property damage that usually accompanied the foiling of those tangential crimes. "Of course you can bring a date if you choose," Lex said graciously. "But I'm sure Superman has more important things to do than listen to a couple of businessmen talk shop."

"Yes, well, they tell me he occasionally saves the world," Bruce said. "Tell you what, a stag night sounds fun. We could use the time to catch up." He put a hint of a flirt into his tone just to make Lex flinch remembering that New Year's party.

"Indeed. I'll look forward to seeing you there."

"Me too, Lex. Me too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead and take your pick as to which of those commenters is Nightwing trolling again :]


	2. Springing a Trap is Fair Play

"Are you crazy? This is obviously a trap!" Clark said, pacing behind Bruce while Bruce debated over ties.

"I know. That's why I'm telling you I'm going. Maybe I shouldn't wear a tie at all," Bruce mused.

"Maybe you shouldn't _go_ at all."

"And miss the opportunity to wander around a LexCorp R&D facility as a civilian? A civilian Lex Luthor invited himself, specifically to show off to? Oh, wait." Bruce pulled a gunmetal gray tie from the depths of his wardrobe and held up a black shirt next to it. "Yes?"

"You're going to wear a gray tie to a black tie event?"

"Power move. I'm Bruce Wayne, I can do that." He fished around on his dresser for a tie clip then realized he'd left the one he was looking for in the Batcave, having altered it slightly to double as a lockpick. It was with his shoes which now sported stylish soles that definitely didn't look like they were hiding spring-loaded knives.

"This wouldn't be happening at all if you hadn't let those reporters corner you with questions," Clark grumbled.

"Yes," said Bruce. "I know."

"I _knew_ it. That impromptu press conference was bait."

Bruce _hmm_ 'd in agreement and started looking for his signal-jamming cufflinks. "You'll notice I ignored some questions while answering others. I needed to convey a certain degree of closeness with Superman coupled with a disregard for the complexities that might arise from such a situation. And, of course, remind Lex that I'm a completely naïve businessman ripe for shearing." He found the cufflinks in his cufflink box, of all places, and took them out for testing since it had been a while since he'd last worn them.

"Yes, yes, you're very smart. But you've left out one detail," Clark said, crossing his arms.

"Have I?"

"Why on Earth are you baiting Lex Luthor?"

"Ah." Bruce's glance at Clark was vanishingly brief but unmistakably guilty.

"Let me make it easy for you," Clark said. "LexCorp is behind the trag territory wars."

"You knew?"

"I know _you_. You didn't tell me because you didn't want me running off to investigate LexCorp without knowing what I might find there. Which means… you think there's kryptonite involved. Bruce, you know I can just do a fly-by and scan all of Lex's holdings from a safe distance."

"First of all, I didn't even know this new facility existed until Lex told me about it. He's been very, very careful about hiding its development." He fastened a watch of indeterminate provenance but definite taste around his wrist. It had been a gift from Tim and concealed one drugged dart that could knock out a hefty adult. Where Tim got these ideas, Bruce would never know, but it couldn't hurt to bring it along. "Secondly, if he hasn't shielded every one of his labs with lead I will admit you're right and skip the party. Go on, I'll wait," Bruce said, waving Clark off nonchalantly.

Clark frowned, but he did fly off with a rush of air. Bruce changed shirts and had just settled the jacket of his charcoal Henry Poole over his shoulders when the curtains fluttered wildly and Clark was standing in front of him once more. From the look on his face, it was easy to tell what he'd seen – or not seen.

"I'll let you know what I find," Bruce said with a smug smile.

 

Alfred drove him to the party, which was far enough away that Bruce had considered using a helicopter. But he could use the time to think, and besides, he wanted the option to leave quietly if he had to. Alfred certainly didn't mind. He was looking forward to catching up on his reading while he waited. Clark had offered to pose as his driver for the evening, but Bruce had told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to be anywhere _near_ this operation tonight. Clark had grudgingly agreed. Bruce believed him, too; Clark's respect of his autonomy was one of the main reasons this relationship worked.

The facility – LexCorp Innovation Center, according to the sign near the entrance – was in the middle of rolling foothills under a vast expanse of clear night sky. A dark line on the horizon was probably the Catskills, Bruce noted with some surprise. He'd thought the land surrounding the mountains was protected and wondered what Lex had done to get building approval here.

The building itself sprawled out instead of up, spilling over the hilly terrain on many levels, entire walls of windows glowing with welcoming light. The main entrance boasted one such wall, rounded outward with doors flung wide. Bruce was, of course, fashionably late, and there were plenty of guests already mingling to the music of a string quartet. The lobby was dotted with cocktail tables. At the far end, a massive staircase curled along the back wall to a mezzanine. Above, a modern light fixture of steel and crystal twisted slowly. Lex hadn't been kidding about the facility being designed to host the public.

The patterns of parties were second nature to Bruce and it was the work of moments to furnish himself with champagne and the company of an investor and a scientist whose conversation was not unbearable. Of course, he was aware of precisely where Lex was in the milling crowd. How and when Lex approached him would tell him a lot.

Lex took his time, making the rounds through the crowd of sparkling cocktail dresses and black bowties before drifting toward Bruce and neatly severing him from his conversational companions with nothing more than a clever angle of his shoulders and some carefully judged eye contact.

"Bruce, I'm so glad you could make it," Lex said. "You missed my welcome speech but any questions you have about the Center, I'll be happy to answer."

"It's an impressive building, Lex," Bruce said, dismissing millions of dollars' worth of architecture with a careless gesture of his champagne glass. "But it doesn't look much like a lab."

"No, this is all for the public – field trips and citizen scientists and such. We have exhibits on the evolution of energy, past LexCorp innovations, prototypes, that sort of thing. But downstairs is where the corporate research is done."

"Fascinating," Bruce said, his tone making clear that it was not. "I'm not sure what possessed you to open a lab to the public like this, though."

"Image, Bruce. I want the public to see LexCorp as it truly is, unmarred by all those unfortunate implications in the media."

"Oh sure, sure," Bruce said. "I can understand that. So pharmaceuticals, eh? Are you curing cancer here or what?"

"Maybe," Lex said with a mysterious smile. "I know we'll accomplish great things once we really get moving."

"Funny," Bruce said, scratching his head. "Because all the exhibits and things up here are focused on energy efficiency. I guess I don't get where the medical side comes in. Or why you were interested in our pharmaceuticals branch. I mean, some other branch just partnered with Gotham Electric to provide cheaper, cleaner energy to most of the city. Isn't that more relevant?"

Lex laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, Bruce. You never know how different aspects of business will influence each other! Isn't that why Wayne Enterprises has so many entities in the first place?"

Bruce shrugged, unconcerned. "I suppose. Oh hey, is that Lisa Lasalle? I love her modeling work, I'm going to go say hello." Bruce handed Lex his champagne glass and turned from him without an apparent second thought. That was satisfying, but he'd really been expecting Lex to try to get him alone somewhere. Well, if Lex wasn't going to spring his trap yet, Bruce was at least going to get some research done.

He chatted with Lisa for a while (who, while she didn't know Batman or Bruce, was an old friend of Clark/Superman's and had, in fact, once run over Zod with a Mack truck, which put her in Bruce's good books) and kept a figurative eye on Lex. When the opportunity arose, Bruce ducked out of the room, heading down a corridor for the stairs that lead to the labs. The door to the stairwell was, unsurprisingly, locked electronically. Bruce had a few options for dealing with that, but before he could employ any of them, Lex cleared his throat meaningfully from behind him. Bruce turned with a smile.

"I don't suppose this is the way to the bathrooms," he said.

"Bruce. Give me some credit," Lex said. Then to Bruce's surprise, he pulled out an ID card and swiped the door open. "If you wanted to see the labs, all you had to do was ask. There's nothing proprietary down there just yet, though, so if you were hoping to steal secrets I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."

"Lex, I'm sure I wouldn't understand half of what's down there," Bruce protested. "I didn't mean to pry, I was just looking for, you know." He grinned. "A little privacy. Best to be prepared, after all." He let his gaze hover over Lex's shoulder, back at the glittering crowd.

Lex sighed. "Really, Bruce. What would Superman say."

"He knew what he was signing up for. Don't tell me you're one of those people who thinks I should be locked up if I break his heart."

"I imagine his heart is as difficult to break as the rest of him," Lex murmured. Bruce knew the odd catch in his voice was Lex's anti-Superman mania breaking through, but to anyone else, it could sound like something else entirely.

"Are you— Lex Luthor, do you have a crush on Superman?" Bruce teased.

Lex's face went through a series of complicated expressions before he choked out, "I certainly do not!"

"In that case," Bruce said, shoving the door to the stairwell open and taking Lex by the arm, "I believe you were offering me a… private tour?"

The trip down the stairs was interesting. Lex was clearly trying to figure out how serious Bruce was with his flirting. If Bruce was reading him correctly, he'd say Lex was weighing the benefits of taking Bruce up on his implied proposition. _He'd do it, too, if there was profit in it,_ Bruce realized, wondering if he should tone it down. But Lex was a planner, and whatever he was intending to try tonight, it was likely too late to change plans now just because he thought there might be a chance he could turn Superman's boyfriend to his side with sex, especially when that boyfriend was as notoriously casual about such things as Bruce Wayne.

The lab level was open and brightly lit, with the same expensive furnishings as the rest of the building, but there was no doubt that it was a workspace. Standing, glass-fronted coolers lined the walls framing rows of lab tables kitted with all the latest equipment. The latest _biomedical_ equipment, Bruce noted, peering into the coolers while Lex went on about the importance of plant life to sustaining green energy efforts. The coolers were all empty and when Bruce wandered over to a large metal refrigerator door in the back of the lab, Lex interrupted his lecture.

"That's just storage," he said.

"Oh, like a big walk-in fridge, like in the movies?" Bruce wondered, pulling it open. He only got a glance inside before Lex was behind him, reaching over his shoulder to shove the door shut.

"Temperature-sensitive samples in there," Lex said with a smile. His hand was still flat on the door which meant that when Bruce turned, his back to the refrigerator, Lex was leaning into him with one arm penning him in. Bruce blinked once and let a lazy smile spread across his face.

"Just looked like sugar crystals to me," he said, and his gaze flicked to Lex's lips briefly and then back up to his eyes. Nothing but pure calculation, there. Bruce laughed softly. "I think I might be a little drunk," he confessed.

Lex backed away immediately, which wasn't what Bruce had been expecting. He added it to his mental file on Lex Luthor. "Perhaps," Lex said. "Would you like me to call upstairs and have your chauffeur bring the car around?"

"Oh, Lex," Bruce said, slinging an arm around Lex's shoulders. "A little drunk is sort of a default state of being for me. Show me the rest of your fancy lab."

Lex did, guiding him through other rooms and keeping a close eye on him the entire time. There was a room dedicated to growing plant specimens under heat lamps – tragacanth, of course, which erased any lingering doubt Bruce might have had about Lex legitimately seeking a partnership with Wayne Enterprises. His crop was still very young but soon he'd have all he needed. There were other areas, though, that seemed to have nothing to do with Bruce's tragacanth case, all seeming to be legitimately dedicated to producing costless energy. _If Lex could stop being evil for two seconds, he might actually do some real good in the world,_ Bruce mused, staring at a black hole simulation playing out on a screen in a room full of computers and monitors. Out loud, he said "You're not actually planning on generating black holes for energy down here, are you?"

"This is just a simulation room," Lex assured him. "We may get there eventually, though. If we don't find a simpler, better way first."

"Huh," Bruce said, straightening from his examination of the simulation and glancing at another one that was running tests on a theoretical wormhole. "Like what?"

"I'll let you know when we find it," Lex said.

"Oh, what's this— oops!" Bruce bumped a keyboard, fingers dragging over a few specific keys, and the wormhole simulation suddenly turned red and began streaming urgent-looking numbers.

"Move over," Lex snapped. "What the hell did you…" He devolved into mumbling as he tried to set the simulation back to parameters.

Bruce took the opportunity to use one of the other computers to poke around for blueprints. Lex had pointedly ignored certain doors in their tour and Bruce was sure the last piece of the puzzle was behind them. Having had Tim build him a door into Lex's system earlier that week, getting to the restricted files was the work of moments. He kept one eye on Lex while he found the blueprint he wanted, indicating that there was another sublevel to this lab containing just one room and some highly specialized equipment. Bruce blessed the organized mind of whoever had designed it, because the equipment schematics for the devices in that room were in the same folder. But when he realized what he was looking at he just as quickly cursed them.

A glance up at Lex had him closing out everything he'd been looking at and re-setting the computer to display its usual simulation. Lex exhaled a moment later and turned from the simulation he'd corrected.

"I hope I didn't damage anything," Bruce said, now leaning against the wall across the room from the station he'd tampered with.

"Nothing that couldn't be fixed. They are just simulations, after all."

"Oh, good," Bruce said with a bright smile. Lex's returning smile was a little brittle and he quickly decided the tour was over, steering Bruce back to the stairs. Bruce let him, thinking hard. He thought he had the whole picture now, even if he hadn't found a confirmation of what he suspected those white crystals were. And he'd also like very much to know why all those simulations had already been running long enough to generate such a large amount of data when the lab had only just been built and wasn't even staffed yet.

At any rate, the entire time they'd been alone down there, Lex hadn't laid a hand on him. If he thought Bruce Wayne was sticking around to the end of the party to be trapped, he was sorely mistaken.

When they returned upstairs, Bruce thanked Lex for the tour and told him he'd share Lex's suggestion of a partnership with his board, but that he could make no promises. Then he generally let it be known that he was leaving for the next stop on that evening's tour of parties. He'd have Alfred take him out a ways, then double around, sneak in a back way, and see whether Lex had already built the device he'd seen in those schematics.

He strode out the doors and down the steps to where Alfred was waiting with the car – only it wasn't Alfred. The man holding his door open was entirely unfamiliar, brawny with a beard and wearing an ill-fitting jacket. Bruce paused and raised his eyebrows at the imposter.

"Mister Pennyworth was taken ill, sir. He arranged for me to replace him," the man rumbled.

"Whatever," Bruce said with a shrug and slid into the car. The door closed behind him and he immediately raised the privacy screen and activated a tiny jammer that would deal with any bugs before pulling his phone out and dialing.

"B, what's up, how's the party," came Dick's cheerful voice.

"Alfred's in trouble. Find him," Bruce growled. Then he hung up, silenced his phone, and lowered the privacy screen. He needed to see where they were going.

The wrong direction, that was for sure.

"Gotham's south," he drawled at the driver.

"Yes, sir. Bad traffic on the Interstate. This detour will be faster."

"Mm, whatever, wake me when we get there," he said, looking down at his phone and sending out a few more details to Dick via text – including an update on his own situation and an admonition not to call.

 _Should I tell S?_ Dick asked.

 _I've got this_ , Bruce replied. Then he deleted all the texts and pocketed the phone. So kidnapping was Lex's move. Disappointingly pedestrian, but Bruce would see it through to learn what he could. They were headed down a very dark road toward the Catskills. A good place for an ambush; a thought that bore out when the car came to a stop at a railroad crossing even though there was no train. Bruce tensed, ready for action, as the driver got out. He opened Bruce's door and pointed a gun at him.

"Out of the car, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce complied, leaving the car with his hands up. "You should know that my lawyers are legally obligated not to cooperate with kidnappers," Bruce said. "There will be no ransom. If you walk away now, I'll forget I saw you."

The man shrugged. "I get paid either way, Mr. Wayne."

"Who's paying you?" In the distance, a train rumbled, getting closer.

The man shook his head. "The people I work with are a lot more dangerous than you, sir. Please stand quietly while we wait for our ride."

Bruce obeyed, looking around. He didn't see any headlights, but the road wound through the hills so that didn't mean much. The train, maybe? That would take some doing. Come to think of it, why was there a train route this close to a forest preserve?

Just when he was considering knocking this guy out from sheer boredom, the train rumbled into view. And slowed to a stop. It turned out it wasn't much of a train, only a small transport car, the kind that would go back and forth between two points to transport supplies, or ore in the case of mining operations. This particular car appeared to be transporting minions. It was bristling with them.

"All aboard," the operator called, sounding like a woman who enjoyed her job. Bruce's driver gave him a nudge with the gun and he stumbled closer to the train car. A few minions seized his arms and hauled him aboard and they were off, the driver left behind presumably to dispose of the car.

As the train lurched forward the men holding Bruce flung him to the floor. He took a breath to go through the whole "whatever-they're-paying-you" song and dance again, but had a rag shoved into his mouth instead. It was followed by a strip of duct tape. His arms were hauled behind his back and cuffed.

"No calling out for help until we say so," one of them informed him. So he was bait. That probably answered his question about whether or not Lex had already built his device, then, though whatever trap they had planned here must be a doozy since they'd have to transport Superman from there back to the lab. That wasn't surprising, though; Lex would want this to go down off LexCorp property just in case, until he was sure he had Superman under his power. It was the same caution that had kept him out of jail this far.

The train pulled into its terminus, which happened to be in the side of a mountain. An enormous, heavy metal door slid shut behind it. Lead, if Bruce had to guess. Two men dragged him off the car, down a short hallway, and into a cylindrical room about ten feet across. The walls of the room had been carved out of the rock of the mountain itself and went up and up, like a silo. Far above, Bruce could see a circle of sky.

"See, the rest of the bunker is lead-lined, Mr. Wayne," one of the kidnappers said. "So the only way your man can see where you are to rescue you is through that hole up there." He peeled the tape from Bruce's mouth and Bruce spat out the cloth. "This is the part where you call for help, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce laughed at him. "I don't think so."

"He thinks he's funny," the leader of the kidnappers said to one of his buddies. Then he punched Bruce in the diaphragm. Bruce curled over his fist and let himself drop to his knees while the guy dusted his hands off. "Only way you're getting out of here, man. Call for help."

Bruce looked up at him and the other kidnappers. There were five of them in the room there with him, and Bruce had knives in his shoes. Losing this fight was going to be harder than winning it, even with his hands cuffed behind his back. "Make me," he said with a grin.

What followed was a flurry of boots and fists that Bruce made sure landed only in non-vital areas. When the kidnappers pulled back, he stayed curled on the ground, made his breathing ragged.

"Take his phone. Shit. Should have thought of that. Hope we didn't smash it. He's bound to have his boyfriend's number."

The phone was still perfectly intact. But it needed a passcode. Bruce got to his knees with a grunt. "Go on, ask me for the code," he said, one corner of his mouth curling upward.

"I think he might be enjoying this," one of them griped.

"Not for long," said the leader. He glared down at Bruce, then wound up for an extremely obvious kick. Bruce had to fight not to roll his eyes as he let the booted foot catch him in the side and knock him back to the ground. "You've got a kid, don't you Mr. Wayne? I wonder if you'll be so amused when it's him we're beating up in front of you. Let's call the boss, guys. Manny, Ed, watch him. If he yells for help, you know what to do."

They all left the room, except for Manny and Ed. Bruce heard a lock slide into place and took the opportunity to notice that there was no lock or handle on this side of the door. Manny, who was kind of skinny for a thug and had a sparse goatee that only accentuated the weakness of his chin, leaned against the wall. Ed, bulkier and holding a rifle, remained in front of the door. Bruce pushed himself into a sitting position. "Hey guys," he said. "Are they really going to kidnap my son?" _Please,_ please _try to kidnap Damian,_ Bruce thought. _And please let someone get it on camera_.

"Having second thoughts, Wayne? You can call for help any time," Manny said. A smirk did not improve the disposition of his face.

"I could. But where's the fun in that." Bruce exploded from the ground, launching himself at Manny – poor, unarmed Manny – and knocking him back against the rock wall, where his head connected with a thud. Manny went down hard and Bruce was already spinning toward Ed.

Ed raised the butt of his rifle, clearly intending to jab it into Bruce's face. Bruce scoffed; as he'd suspected, they really didn't want him dead, so that rifle was completely useless for anything other than intimidation. He ducked under it, drove his shoulder into Ed's stomach, and heard the air leave his lungs. Bruce dropped and swept Ed's feet out from under him. While Ed was falling, Bruce brought his legs through the loop of his arms to get his hands in front of himself, then plucked the rifle out of Ed's hands and cold-cocked him with it. He dropped the gun across Manny's chest and shifted the bodies so it looked like they'd had a confrontation with each other.

His tie clip made short work of the handcuffs and then he was just Bruce Wayne standing in a cave.

"Whatever will I do," he murmured. Then he began climbing the wall.

 


	3. Escaping is Fair Play

It wasn't an _easy_ climb. The rock – limestone and shale – was rough enough that Bruce could find handholds, and the knives in his shoes helped where his feet couldn't find purchase in the brittle stone, but the climb was almost two hundred feet straight up. He really needed to find a way to work a grappling line into his eveningwear.

Early on, it was easier. The walls were riddled with regular holes; gas pipes. For aerosolized kryptonite, unless he missed his guess. Probably synthetic, for the amount they would need to fill this room. Not as harmful as the natural stuff, and at least he didn't have to worry about Lex having a secret kryptonite mine somewhere. Then he passed a narrow gap running the circumference of the chimney, just wide enough for him to jam his toes in for a brief rest as he passed it. That would be a dilating blast shield, then. They must be pretty confident in their kryptonite gas if they expected Superman not to just punch through anything between him and the sky. Bruce doubled his estimation of their synthetic supply. Then he remembered Lex's device at the lab and tripled it.

All told, when he finally reached the lip of the rock silo, he was incredibly tired. The bruises from the beating he'd taken would have been negligible on a normal day, but after a vertical climb like that with no equipment… Bruce was feeling them. He hauled himself over the top of the chimney and was relieved to find it wide enough to sit on.

Then he looked down and that relief dissipated.

He was staring at a sheer drop, more cliff-face than mountain. His hands were already raw, and one of his knives had broken off toward the end of the climb. The other was surely dulled to near-uselessness. Still, he did consider giving it a try. Right up until it started raining.

Bruce let out a longsuffering sigh as fat drops rapidly slicked the stone around him and made dark spots on his poor, abused suit. He'd kept the suit jacket for the entire climb (rest in peace, shoulder seams) along with the handcuffs in the hope that it would look like Superman had spirited him away, and the fact that Bruce Wayne had taken out two men (one of them armed) with his hands tied behind his back would be lost in the ensuing chaos.

"Fine," Bruce grumbled at the universe. Might as well add a little authenticity to his escape. He cleared his throat. "Superman," he said in an ordinary, if slightly grudging, conversational tone. "I could use some help."

Superman was there before he finished blinking, hovering in front of Bruce, rain shimmering off his shoulders. "What on Earth happened to you?" he asked, taking in Bruce's somewhat worse-for-the-wear state. "Why are we on a mountain?"

Before Bruce could answer, Superman cocked his head like he was listening and then peered over the lip of the silo. There was a sudden rattle of gunfire and Bruce figured Superman must have heard Ed and Manny waking up. None of the bullets made it all the way up the chimney, but Superman scowled and was clearly about to zip down to take care of things. Bruce grabbed his cape, stopping him short.

"Don't," he said. "They have kryptonite gas. They were planning to use me as bait at the bottom of that hole, have you fly in to rescue me, then gas you and seal the chamber."

"Really," Superman said, eyeing the chimney with suspicion. The shouts from below were starting to reach even Bruce's ears, echoing off the stone as more people rushed to the chamber. "They really thought I would just fly straight down this very obvious hole and into their trap?"

"That's literally what you were about to do," Bruce pointed out.

"Oh, well. Maybe. What was supposed to happen next, then?"

"That's where the tragacanth comes in. Lex has been using it to create white kryptonite suspensions. The white kryptonite kills plant life, but seems to be stable in suspensions created from tragacanth gum, probably because it's inert but I'd need a sample before I could say for sure."

"But Bruce—" A bullet whizzed past them and Superman whisked Bruce off the lip of the silo away from any stray gunfire, one arm behind Bruce's back and the other under his knees. Bruce crossed his arms, submitting to the man-handling with ill grace. "Bruce, there's no such thing as white kryptonite."

"No. Not in this reality," Bruce said. "I'll explain everything later. Are we going to hang around here all night?"

"Right, sorry, I'll put you down somewhere and come back and round up these guys." He descended rapidly. Bruce squinted against the rising wind and pelt of raindrops.

"Don't bother," he said, turning his face toward Superman's chest so the rush of air wouldn't snatch his breath. "I planted listening devices on all of them. Let them run back to Lex and we'll get something incriminating eventually."

"That's inadmissible evidence, Bruce. I have to get them now, in the act of kidnapping a civilian." He deposited Bruce on a sturdy tree branch. Rain hissed through the leaves.

"You'll never get Lex this way," Bruce warned him, grabbing Superman's cape again as he turned to fly back.

Superman turned and pressed a quick kiss to Bruce's lips. "I'll do it the right way or not at all," he said.

Bruce scowled and let the cape's fabric slide through his fingers. "Yeah. I know."

Superman smiled at him and was gone.

 

Several hours later, Lex Luthor was casually destroying data in the labs of LexCorp Innovation Center. Nothing that had happened that night could be traced back to him, of course; most of the synthetic kryptonite had been stored off-site, white kryptonite didn't even exist, and no one could prove what that device in the sub-basement was for. Perhaps he'd still have a chance to use it someday… but for now he should probably dismantle it, just in case.

The door to the subbasement was unlocked. That is, the handle had been removed, apparently by excessive force. Lex frowned and descended the steps, knowing what he'd find.

The room in the subbasement was small. Its walls were normally covered in coils of what would look like green neon when they were activated. They were not activated now. In fact, they were thoroughly dismantled. In the middle of the room was a vertical table furnished with steel bands that could be locked closed. An array of needles hovered over the table on steel praying-mantis arms. The back of the table looked like a solar panel, shiny black with a grid of faint silvery lines, and was connected to a giant cylinder by thick, ropey wires. It looked like something designed to bring Frankenstein's monster to life, though really it was more of the opposite.

Leaning casually against the whole amalgamation was Superman.

"Nice machine, Lex," he said cheerfully. "The kryptonite coils on the walls were an inspired touch." After he'd taken care of the kidnappers (and retrieved Bruce's phone), he'd insisted on carrying Bruce (and his recovered car) home. On the way, Bruce had explained the whole plot to him: the simulations that had allowed Lex to theorize the existence of white kryptonite in other universes and synthesize some of his own; the plan to use false green kryptonite to keep Superman just weak enough that needles could pierce his skin; the white kryptonite solution that would allow Lex to essentially reverse the process by which Superman metabolized sunlight into power, making Superman bleed energy; Lex's plan to use Superman as the ultimate clean energy source, one powerful enough to supply Metropolis for years if he was careful not to kill Superman with the green kryptonite.

Superman had listened to all of it calmly. After dropping off the car in the manor's driveway he'd flown Bruce, now groggy with the efforts of the evening, straight to his bedroom. Bruce had waited long enough for Superman to confirm Alfred's heartbeat somewhere on the first floor, strong and healthy and in good company with a few others, and then had shed his eveningwear and dropped onto his bed, boneless.

That was when Superman had seen the bruises. They were still vivid in his mind's eye now, making it a little difficult to maintain an even tone with Lex who, as usual, was showing no signs of remorse.

"Not sure about all these syringes, though," Superman went on, prodding one with a fingertip. His skin didn't so much as dent against the needle. "It's a little mad-scientist, don't you think?"

"This is trespassing," Lex said.

"Go ahead and call the police. I'll wait."

Lex clenched his jaw. "What do you want?"

"Just to give you a warning," Superman said. The lightness was gone from his voice.

"Threats? From the Boy Scout?" Lex scoffed.

"Oh, no. Not at all." Clark's eyes narrowed. "A warning about playing in Gotham. They're a lot less friendly over there. A certain nocturnal friend of mine isn't at all amused by the way you pulled strings in his city, not to mention the bridges you've burned with Poison Ivy. Next time you want to make a designer drug just for me, I suggest outsourcing elsewhere." He smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. "And you'll need to. Turns out that white kryptonite doesn't do well in extreme heat. I'm afraid your entire batch is useless now."

"If you're referring to the newly-synthesized compounds in the biopharm lab, I'll have you know we were developing a cure for skin cancer in there," Lex said, refusing to let his composure crack.

"Of course you were." Superman ran a hand down the table. "And this is just a tanning bed." There was a screech of metal, a snapping of electronics, the creak of Lex's jaw as he clenched his teeth harder. Superman crossed his arms, standing over the remains of the machine. "I don't have any evidence, Lex. But you're lucky I'm the kind of person who needs it. Keep that in mind."

A soft displacement of air was the only indication Superman had passed him, leaving Lex alone with the remains of his plans.

 

Clark took the time to pass through the manor when he returned rather than simply flying in Bruce's window. He wanted a few moments to mentally switch gears from tights-and-cape to flannel-and-denim. Besides, the sun was just rising and he liked wandering the manor in the early morning, when it was silent and the people he loved were safe in their beds.

…or elsewhere. Clark's ears pricked at the sound of six heartbeats coming from one of the smaller sitting rooms. He turned his steps in that direction, peered in the door, and had to stifle a laugh.

There was a pile of Robins asleep in the cherry red glow of a banked fire. Jason was sitting on the floor with his back to the couch and legs stretched out toward the fireplace, arms crossed and head tipped back onto the couch cushion, mouth open in sleep. Behind him, stretched the length of the couch on his stomach, was Dick, cheek smashed into a throw pillow and one arm, lightly bandaged, trailing down over Jason's shoulder. Tim had propped another throw pillow against Jason's leg and was sleeping curled on his side facing the embers. Stephanie and Damian were in a similar position, the three of them lined up like matryoshka dolls. Someone had covered Stephanie and Damian with Tim's cape, though Clark could still see that Damian was curled around his sword the same way Stephanie was curled around him and Tim was curled around Stephanie. Off to the side, presiding over them all, Alfred was dozing in an armchair, feet up on an ottoman and a book fallen open on his lap. Clark blinked. Alfred had a long green smudge of duckweed running down the arm of his shirt, the soles of his shoes appeared to be slightly melted, and there was definitely glitter in his hair. Clark eased the door shut and backed away.

He was as silent as ever entering Bruce's room, but Bruce was already stirring when Clark walked in, squinting around in the thin bluish light of dawn. The bruising did not look better in daylight.

"Go back to sleep," Clark said, crossing to the window to pull the heavy blackout curtains shut. He'd left them askew after dropping Bruce off less than an hour earlier. "Alfred's fine, your whole flock of Robins is downstairs asleep, there is no reason to be awake right now." Bruce mumbled something incoherent and Clark turned in time to see him swing his legs out of bed with the clear intent of getting up. "I will never understand how you get by on so little sleep," he said, frowning.

"Says the guy who only needs to sleep once a week. Did you make your threats?" Bruce's voice was gravelly and thick with waking.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Clark said. Then in a blur he ditched his shirt and jeans and dove past Bruce into his bed. "Mmm, still warm," he said, snuggling under a blanket.

"You don't get _cold_ ," Bruce pointed out.

"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate being warm. Or grabbing a little extra sleep when I can get it." Clark burrowed his head into a pillow and shut his eyes. Bruce watched him for a few moments, then sighed.

"Well. I suppose it couldn't hurt to stay in bed a little longer."

"It really couldn't," Clark said, not opening his eyes. "Gotham is safe, the case is closed." He held up the edge of the blanket invitingly. "Nap time."

"Hm," said Bruce, amused. "There's one thing I never figured out."

Clark dropped the arm that was holding up the blanket with a huff and now he did open his eyes. "Really? Come on, Bruce."

"Okay, okay," Bruce said. He slid under the blanket, though he shoved it down to his waist. Sharing a bed with Clark was like sharing a bed with a small sun. Bruce settled on his back with one arm behind his head. Clark shifted closer to him with a contented sigh. "So, as I was saying, there was one thing I never figured out," Bruce said. Clark's sigh turned to an exasperated laugh and he buried his face in a pillow.

"All right, oh great detective. What did you never figure out?"

"Why Gotham?" Bruce wondered. "He didn't need the scientific expertise of any of our criminals, as I originally thought. Plenty of other cities have a robust drug trade, and he specifically antagonized Poison Ivy, who he's worked with in the past. What am I missing?"

"Heh. Only the most obvious thing about Gotham," Clark said. "It was because of you."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. "What, he wanted Batman to catch him?"

"No, I mean you're ultra-defensive of this city. Everyone knows you hate other heroes interfering in Gotham. He was hiding from me behind your cape. Actually pretty good thinking when there's kryptonite involved. I tend to notice it. Too bad he didn't know about our…" Clark waggled his eyebrows. "…extracurriculars."

That startled a laugh out of Bruce. "I see. Ah, of course, that explains the new facility as well," he said, nodding. "That's why he built it out in the middle of nowhere and made sure there would be civilians on the premises most of the time – much harder for you to stumble across anything and come barreling in. Or out, if he actually managed to hook you up to that machine and made a mistake down the line." Bruce turned to Clark, that small worry line appearing at the side of his mouth. "You did destroy it, right?"

"Yes," Clark said, reaching out to smooth the crease with his thumb. "It's gone."

"Why don't you sound happier about that?"

Clark didn't answer, just kept running his thumb down Bruce's cheek, under his jaw, until Bruce grabbed his hand and gave it what would probably be a bone-crushing squeeze to a human. "Clark," he growled. "Do not tell me you're thinking about how much clean energy you could provide the world if you were willing to torture yourself."

Clark sighed. "I feel selfish. And I know that's martyrdom or whatever, and that I deserve to have a life but—"

"But what would happen when the next hurricane hit, or the next passing alien fleet decided to invade? Humans can figure out the energy problem just as soon as we pull our heads out of our asses. Believe me, you do more good out in the world than you could ever do strapped to a giant battery," Bruce said fiercely. "And if you _won't_ believe me on that, believe me when I say I would never, ever let you make such a foolish sacrifice. I would stop you by any means necessary. And I have a lot of means."

"Oh," said Clark. He could feel his face heating. "Well I guess that settles that."

Bruce noticed his blush and shook his head. "I will never understand why people _caring_ about you flusters you so much."

"Not a lot of people see the need to fight for me, Bruce. Not a lot of people _could_."

"Are you forgetting about the entire Justice League?"

Clark's smile was a little sad. "You really think that if I decided I needed to let Lex Luthor turn me into a giant Energizer bunny, anyone besides you would be able to stop me? Maybe Diana. But… look, it's okay Bruce. You have contingency plans for everything. Well, you're my contingency plan for myself. I know I can rely on you."

"You can," Bruce assured him. A few moments passed in silence. "Well this has gotten morbid," Bruce said. "Not exactly where I thought we were going to end up when you jumped into my bed."

"Well, you know what they say about sex and death," Clark said brightly.

"…Actually, I have no idea what they say about sex and death," Bruce admitted.

"Oh. Me neither. Just seems like it should be something, right? You know, _la petite mort_ and that sort of thing?" Clark was blushing again and Bruce was laughing and the sun was rising and everyone was alive and safe. Bruce thought that if they could avoid causing any further scandals in the media, they might even have an entire week of relative normalcy. They might as well start it off right. Bruce leaned in and kissed Clark, taking his time for the first time in months. Clark snaked an arm around his waist and rolled, carrying Bruce with him. There was more breathless laughter, and more blushing, and a lot more tangling of blankets and sheets, and a little bit more French.

And that sort of thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARTWORK: Jesterbells [drew the pile of Robins](https://jesterbells.deviantart.com/art/Pile-of-Robins-717968327)!
> 
> That's the end! Thank you all for your amazing comments and kudos, I appreciate every single one of them. You've made posting this as much fun as it was writing it!
> 
> I have some deleted scenes, just a few, that I'll be posting next weekend as a separate work in this series, so keep an eye out if you're interested in such things :)


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